Drive Until Dawn
by MissNessarose
Summary: It's a completely pointless road trip across America with Peri, he thinks, full of all the usual little bumps in the road. They're not headed anywhere in particular but neither of them care. (Can be seen as shippy, but mostly fluffy, friendly, and full of skittles!)


(Author's Note: This is shippy and fluffy and done in about ten minutes due to a boredom spree, but I'm going on vacation in a week or so, and I'm in a summery mood. So, take this.)

* * *

For even just a little while, he fixes the chameleon circuit, and they're left with a dark blue pickup truck, slightly beaten and somewhat worn for wear. It drives well, though, functioning as an actual vehicle for the time being. Peri requests a road trip and when they land somewhere in California, he asks her where she'd like to go.

"You know," she says with a sigh, "I don't really care. Let's go anywhere, Doctor. Anywhere at all."

That's exactly what they do, driving long into the night with Peri in the passenger seat, the radio turned up loud as they both sing off-key in a terrible way. She rolls her window down all the way and lets the wind on the highway whip against her face.

That's when they lose their map.

"I thought it went that way," Peri says softly, after they've pulled over to look through the tall grass and wildflowers for it. "Didn't it...?"

"I told you not to keep your windows so far down," he reprimands her, as the map catches in the breeze just a few meters from their feet, and is swept up into the sky by the wind.

Peri smiles sheepishly. "I hope you didn't need that..."

Who cares, because they're not driving anywhere specific, he tells her as they drive on, before stopping to pick up snacks—because those are terribly necessary.

"Do you want some chips?" she asks, holding the bag up over the shelves to show him in the next aisle. The flickering gas station lights are dim overhead, and she's on her tiptoes to try and let him get a glimpse.

"Go ahead. Crackers?"

"Nah," she frowns. "How much chocolate can you afford?"

_"__Peri," _he sighs, "It's going to melt if you leave it out, and I know how you are."

"Just some candy?" She jumps to wave the box of m&m's and another of some cookie dough candy.

"I just told you no."

_"__Please?" _

"No."

She makes a noise of desperation but makes no further comment.

"Yeah, but there's skittles, too..." she adds softly, and his attitude changes completely.

"Get all of it, then!"

The backseat is piled high with bags of doritos and skittles and at least five packs of gum before they know it, climbing back into the truck as the sun sets.

Peri uncaps a bottle of coke and hands it to him before uncapping another for herself.

"Here's to the Doctor," she says with a smile, and they toast their cokes together, trying hard not to spill them with the gentle bumps of the road.

It's late, and they decide to stop at a cheap motel for the night, rather nicely sized for the just-as-nice rates—"But they've got a _pool," _Peri protests—and they have to disappear into the TARDIS for a little while and pack bags so they at least look _somewhat_ normal. Peri runs their bags up to their room—on the top floor, and with a _balcony—_and changes quickly into her bikini because though it's nine at night, the pool's still open, so why not?

He lounges in the hot tub with a soda as she does labs, peering over the edge of the pool at him and making funny gestures with her eyebrows, splashing across the slick flooring into his face. When she takes a mouthful of water and sprays his face, the Doctor climbs out of the hot tub and runs across the small gap, jumping into the cold pool with a cannonball that soaks her all over again.

"Hey, not fair!" she cries, as he tackles her in the water. She jumps on his back and dunks him and pulls at his curls and he picks her up and tosses her until they've had enough and head back up to the room.

They don't realize until she's still drying her hair, now in a modest pair of shorts and a tank top, the AC all the way up, that the room has only one double bed (of course).

They don't care, and mock the cheap selection of television channels until well after eleven that night, finally turning off the bright lamps mounted on the wall to snuggle beneath the comforter. She still smells like chlorine and sunscreen and his breath smells vaguely of skittles.

But they don't care.


End file.
